The Blame Game
by fandragon
Summary: The office is preparing for a major operation, but John Boulton and Claire Stanton are letting their personal lives become involved.
1. Chapter 1

**Rating:** no violence etc.

**Summary: **There are high stakes as the team work towards catching a violent serial rapist

**Copyright:** All the characters except Brian Finchly belong to the Bill

John Boulton slammed down the phone. He was in a bad mood and the office was doing its best to stay out of his way. Kerry, unhappily ignorant of the sergeant's mood, chose that moment to walk through the door with Claire Stanton in toe.

"Kerry," John shot at her from across the room, "Why didn't you go and interview that victim at St. Hue's last night. The hospital's just called, she died this morning and now we're back were we started."

Kerry, slightly taken aback by the verbal attack, turned her face away to regain some composure. It was so difficult to work with John. He had almost seemed pleasant a couple of weeks back, then something had gone wrong and now it seemed she couldn't do anything right.

"I'm sorry serge, the hospital told me she wasn't up to questioning, so I thought it would be best to leave it."

"John, it's hardly her fault." Claire knew all too well what was bothering John but that didn't make working with him any easier. "If the doctors said she couldn't be questioned, Kerry could hardly disregard that." She sighed; it would be so much easier if John didn't insist on taking his feelings out on every DC in the vicinity. "Some of us draw a distinction between victims and suspects."

"And some of us just want to get to the truth." John muttered the words bitterly. Kerry looked up. It appeared she was off the hook, thanks again to Claire. She had never fully understood what went on between the two sergeants, but Claire was one of the few people who would and could control John. She didn't notice the moisture that had gathered in the other woman's eyes.

John's words held a meaning only too clear for Claire. It had been just two weeks since she had finally confessed to him that she was CIB and she had spent every moment since regretting it. When she looked at him, her mind was irresistibly drawn back into the happier times. The nights they had shared together, the times when he had held her close and she couldn't be in the same room without remembering the touch of his skin against hers. Then she would see the look in his eyes when she had told him the truth: revulsion. He had pushed her away and there was no going back. She might as well concentrate on catching Don Beech, after all, he was the reason she was here in the first place.

Claire walked over to Beech's desk, her ever vigilant eyes swallowing up the names and numbers of the files carelessly scattered over its surface. It was lucky she hadn't told John who she was after – not that she'd had a chance.

"So, Don, any news on the serial rapist? Other than the death of the latest victim, Sergeant Boulton's kindly informed me of that development already."

Don smiled. He liked Claire, she was smart and good to look at. Everything he enjoyed in a woman, and he wasn't too fussed about the smart.

"Sure, the lab's finished forensics, we managed to get the latest case in as urgent. Big surprise, there were no traces, again." He offered her his lop sided sarcastic smile and Claire couldn't help noting the irony of the whole situation. "It looks like it's gonna have to be an obbo after all, one of you girls up for being a tom?" Kerry and Claire turned away with predictable maturity.

"Well, if you're serious about an obbo Don, we'll have to inform the DI today. I take it we all want to get this sicko off the streets before he does any more damage." John, like Claire, had been concentrating on his work with a renewed vigour since her revelation. At first he didn't believe it. When he had run out of the flat that night he had only been angry. Angry that the woman who he was increasingly sure he was falling in love with had to be in CIB and hurt that she had lied to him. Now, the questions had started to form: why were CIB interested in Sun Hill in the first place? Who were they after?

Carefully, John raised his eyes to look at Claire from across the room, but just at that moment, she did exactly the same and the pair were caught in a guilty trap, neither willing to break the contact.

"Well Johnny boy, if someone's gotta ask old Deakin for more resources, I'd rather you than me." Don interrupted the silent battle. "You should probably go too Claire, I mean, the DI actually likes you."

Claire rolled her eyes, far too used to the secondary meanings in Don's words to feel intimidated.

"You mean I actually work Donald?" she asked in mock astonishment. Don scowled as Claire left her desk, unperturbed, to broach the DI. Slowly John also slid from his chair to accompany her.

As it turned out, Deakin was out so the pair headed down the corridor to Meadow's office. There was a tense silence, neither sure exactly what to say and both convinced the situation could not continue as it was.

"Look, John, I know you're angry, but you can't keep taking it out on everyone else in the office, it's not fair." They were standing outside Meadow's door, but neither was ready to knock.

"How can you pretend to know how I feel, I've just found out that I've been dating a woman for the last six months who's been spying on me and my friends! How am I supposed to feel?"

"It's not that simple!" Claire was close to tears and she could feel the ticklish sensation at the corners of her eyes, but she resolutely tilted her head upwards, determined not to show any weakness. "I told you didn't I?"

"Yeah, six months too late," Even John choked over these last cruel words, and just as both sergeants were on the verge of break down, the door opened and Meadows glanced from one to the other inquiringly.

"John? Claire?"

"Yes Sir," as ever Claire was quick to regain control of the situation. "We'd like to organise an obbo sir, as soon as possible on Brian Finchly, our suspect in the serial rape case."

The DCI glanced over the files John handed him. "You do realise there's no medical evidence and this could just be a wild goose chase, but I certainly see your point in the similarities and timing." Meadows gave a quick thought to the look on Brownlow's face when he discovered how much money was being poured into one, potentially disastrous obbo, before smiling at his officers, "The sooner we get filth like Finchly off the streets, the better."


	2. Chapter 2

"Finchly is extremely dangerous and this operation is going to require the coordinated efforts of the whole team", Meadows paused to allow the members of CID time to contemplate the photograph of the man they were after.

Brian Finchly was a convicted serial rapist, but somehow he'd managed to obtain early parole, and now he was up to his old tricks. Five prostitutes in the Sun Hill area had been taken to St. Hue's in the last month, all reporting similar attacks, and just this morning, the body of a fifth had been discovered in the toilet block of a near-by park.

"Now this should be pretty straight forward, we have a good idea of Finchly's MO from previous convictions and we know the type of victim he prefers." Meadows glanced briefly at Claire, "As Sgt Stanton closest matches the victim profiles, she will be posing as the bait in this operation." This comment drew appreciative wolf whistles from Mickey and Don. Meadows made a half hearted attempt to glare them into silence, but his main focus was on the logistics of his operation. "Don, you and Kerry will be positioned closest, Mickey and Duncan are also on backup and John, you'll be in charge, coordinating by radio.

Kerry rolled her eyes – more power to Boulton, the DCI must be mad, she turned to Claire, "You alright?"

"I'm fine," Claire gave a brief smile and it suddenly struck Kerry how drawn her friend had started to look. Claire's usually lively eyes had taken on an almost feverish brightness and her skin appeared, if possible, even paler than usual.

"You sure, I mean, Finchly's a freak, but you'll have support, you'll be wired."

"Kerry, honestly, there's nothing wrong." Claire stopped abruptly, vainly wishing she hadn't sounded so harsh, but her friend just shrugged, no doubt she'd hear about it in time, it was probably family troubles again and best if she didn't interfere.


	3. Chapter 3

You had to laugh, Claire thought as she concealed a wire under a mini skirt and skin-tight top. She certainly wouldn't be revealing to anyone just how she'd taped it onto the under wiring of her bra – well maybe Kerry. She sat back in the leather upholstering of Meadow's car as they made their slow journey through the city, it was moments like this that she loved in undercover work, the thrill of pretence. How ironic when it was pretence that had caused her personal life so much turmoil.

"You all set?" Meadows queried suddenly.

"Of course Gov," Claire gave him a grateful smile.

"You've seemed a little quiet lately, is there anything I should know before you go out there?" Claire looked up, surprised by the DCI's insight. They had reached the red light district and were now passing scantily dressed women on every second corner.

"It's a bit late for that Gov, I won't let you down." She smiled as she opened the passenger door and climbed out. Why hadn't she told him? Would he have let her do the op? Perhaps she was a little too addicted to this job, or maybe she just didn't want to think about some things at this moment.

On the street, Claire almost felt relaxed. Her clothing had transformed from conspicuous to uniform in a couple of small steps. She looked around taking in her surroundings. This was the difficult bit, already the other girls were eyeing her suspiciously. A new girl on their patch, and what's more, one with customers.

During the planning stage, Meadow's had talked to some of the local girls and refuge houses about the dangers of Finchly and the possibility of planting a copper on the street, but none of these women would know that she was that copper. hopefully, the posters they had provided would be enough to ensure Claire was the only one who got in a car with him, but she'd have to work for it all the same.

Claire moved to stand in the light of a street lamp. She leant back, exposing her long legs even further. She thought with ironic sadness of her competition and the bizarre competitive nature of her position.

A car slowly turned round the far corner, lights off it crawled down the street in near darkness, eventually, it paused at Claire's feet. From the driver's seat a middle aged man in respectable business suit smiled at her. He let his eyes roam over her body, all to exposed, and his grin widened, then he opened the passenger door.


	4. Chapter 4

John sat by himself. The darkness of the night was dimmed by the lights of the city. Silently, he watched Claire through binoculars. Strictly speaking, this wasn't what he was supposed to be doing, but he was fitting into the neighborhood alright.

He saw her body stretched out against the lamp post, the darkness only accentuating the curves of her frame with shadow. She strutted confidently out there, but he couldn't help thinking how vulnerable she was and he saw the creeps who were picking up the other girls around her. God, why did he let himself think these things? He turned away.

"Any sightings of the target?" The crackly negatives from the others parked in cars close by broke the silence that had formed around him. He glanced up and his breath caught in the back of his throat. A car had stopped in front of Claire and the passenger door was open. He didn't need the automatic glance at the registration plates to tell it wasn't the one they were looking for but some other man was sitting there, expecting her to get in.

John cursed, why had no one even considered this? He was about to get out and chase the potential client off, but he stopped himself just in time. It was Claire's call, and he wouldn't risk blowing the whole operation just to make Claire comfortable. She was good at undercover work. He laughed at his own bitterness and settled back into his seat.

Meanwhile, Kerry and Don, across the street were also watching the scene unfold.

"God, is Sergeant Boulton going to do anything, or just let Claire be abused by that…" Kerry was straining forward, trying to get a better view of the scene unfolding.

"Oh come on Kerry," Don cut in. Although he too was starting to worry, Claire should have sent this man on his way by now. "John's hardly going to break cover over a difficult client."

"Well maybe he should. All I'm saying is, if Claire gets hurt, it's going to be his fault. I thought you'd be worried about Claire." Kerry cast a sidelong glance at her sergeant. She was only guessing, but it didn't take a genius to figure lingering glances and, in Don Beech's case, politeness.

"Don't be such a school girl. John's right, it's far too risky to intervene." Don hated the fact that someone had read him. Secrecy was something he prided himself on. You needed it in his position. He decided he'd have to keep an eye on Kerry, it could be dangerous for them both if she became to inquisitive.

The car in front of Claire suddenly pulled the passenger door closed and sped off into the night. Where she stood, Claire shivered slightly. The night was cold, but more than that, she was starting to feel the fear pressing in all around her.

She wondered pointlessly if John had taken things differently, would she even be here, or at least be this afraid, determined to prove herself. It was ridiculous. There was no way she could change his mind, and even if she could, would she be willing to risk one of her colleagues in her place – the selfishness of such an idea overwhelmed her. It was then she saw him, not in a car, but standing on the corner, not three meters from her – Finchly.


	5. Chapter 5

He stood there, watching her. He smiled as she stifled a gasp. Seemingly drawn in by her fear he took a step forward, passing into the orange glow of the street light above. His dark hair fell almost to his eyes and a faded green jacket hid most of his body from sight but even in these conditions Claire was in no doubt as to the well built frame that lay beneath, dangerously capable of over powering her.

"A hundred," she stammered, trying to maintain some control over the situation.

He just shrugged. He didn't intend to pay any way. Claire was suddenly starting to appreciate all the factors she hadn't fully considered in the briefing. The others might be close, but it was just the two of them here on the street: her and Finchly, and some how, she needed to incriminate him without ending up the next corpse in the Sun Hill morgue.

"Come here," His voice was low and gravely. Barely above a whisper, he signalled for her to follow. Left without any real alternative, Claire strolled towards him, bravely attempting to maintain her cool, promiscuous exterior. "Don't worry," Finchly stroked her bare arm and Claire saw her hairs were standing on end. "I'm not going to hurt you. Unless you want me to that is." With this statement, he pulled her closer, slipping his arm around her shoulders and resting his hand on her breast.

Claire concentrated all her efforts on remaining calm. She was frankly surprised he hadn't guessed something was up yet; her heart was beating so fast the hidden wire must be picking it up. Her whole body was stiff with terror and she was still following this maniac into some deserted alley.

For what seemed like ages, the two of them walked down backstreet after backstreet and with each turn they seemed to find themselves in a place more dark and desolate than the one before. At last, Claire, tired of this never ending journey and completely lost stopped.

"Where are we going?"

"I told you, there's n reason to be afraid."

"That's not what I asked. My time costs money you know. Doesn't matter what you do with it." Her short stand of defiance was brought to an abrupt end as Finchly grabbed her shoulders, shoving her up against the nearest wall. Claire felt a searing pain stab through her back as it hit some protruding brick or piece of metal.

"What do you think you're doing?" she half screamed, hoping her colleagues would hear, and then it hit her. Where were they? Could they have followed all this way on foot, or didn't they see Finchly in the dark. Hysteria was threatening to over take her. She didn't even know where she was, let alone the others.

Meanwhile, Finchly in front of her had pulled out a knife. "I thought you might be different, but you're just like all the others." There were tears running down his face and he looked like some overgrown deformed child, terrified of its own brutality.

"What do you mean the others?" Claire grasped at what seemed like her only chance – talking her way out of the situation.

"The other girls, they're everywhere. They wait here late at night and they tell me they love me, but they don't, not really." Even through her fear, Claire felt a distant stab of pity for this creature, to feel so unloved you killed girls who offered you their bodies.

"What did you do to the others?" Praying that this would work she tried to face her attacker.

"I punished them. I made them feel how I do and when they screamed, they understood." He pushed his own body up against Claire's so she couldn't move. Despite the pain in her back she tried to sink further into the wall, but the bricks were unyielding and she was powerless as he pressed his lips against hers. She felt his tongue in her mouth and tried to swallow the bile rising up her stomach and throat.

He hadn't kissed any of the previous victims. Claire's memory strained trying to recall the details of the previous attacks. It had been purely sexual or violent. Then again, none of the others had had any sustained dialogue with him either. Perhaps there was a chance she could still get away. Then she felt his hand sliding up between her thighs and she bit her tongue to stop the scream of terror that wanted to consume her. The point of his blade was pricking the skin of her neck.

Silently Claire prayed that somehow the others would make it in time.


	6. Chapter 6

"Suit yourself Don, but I'm not an idiot you know." Kerry grabbed the binoculars up off the back seat and focused them towards the lamp post Claire had been leaning against a second before. "Don!" This time there was no mocking tone, "Don, where's Claire?"

His anger melted instantly and together the officers started scanning the area in search of their colleague. With increasing panic their eyes darted from one dingy alley to another, it seemed as though the whole street was one giant intersection and that Claire could be anywhere.

"She didn't get in a car did she?" Don's voice was almost hopeful. He picked up his radio, John must have seen where she went, he didn't even have a DC to distract him. "DS Beech to DS Boulton, has the bait connected with target?"

John, who at that moment had his own binoculars focused on the occupants of the cars crawling the street, was brought back to earth with a painful jolt. Why did Don need to ask, weren't they all watching. Well, he hadn't been, but there were three of them with eye view of the lamp post, and that's when he saw it, glowing tall and orange in the night sky, with no Claire underneath.

With a momentary glance up and down the road, he threw caution to the wind. Never one for the rules, John sprang from the car running across the road towards the corner where Claire had been. The others, following John's example abandoned their own cars to join him, where all three came to an unpleasant halt. Which way had she gone.

A minute later, Duncan and Mickey had joined them. There was only choice: they would have to abandon the obbo. They needed to find Claire before it was too late.

"Ok everyone," Don maintained his cool persona, "The important thing now is that we find Claire. She could have gone with Finchly, or she could have been taken by someone else completely. We'll split up into three and take an area each."

Without preamble the group divided, the two sergeants running silently down the nearest backstreet.

Kerry and Duncan hurried to the next, Duncan's breath coming in sharp gasps of cold night air, but despite his weight, the DC pushed himself on, determined to find his friend. Kerry too was worried. Claire was her best friend and although she was sometimes jealous of the other woman, there was already a niggling guilt at the back of her consciousness.

They reached the end lane and backtracked to take another and another. The more turns they took the more lost and hopeless it all became.

"Maybe there was a car and we all missed it," Kerry's voice was choked.

"No," Duncan's broad Scots cut across her. "Mickey and I would've seen.

Kerry turned away, tears now rolling freely down her cheeks and out of the corner of her eye, she spotted movement at the end of a nearby street. In a frantic movement, she quietened Duncan and slowly the pair stole towards the corner.

Meanwhile, Mickey had been charged with interrogating the working girls around the vicinity. Had any of them noted what so many police had failed to? Had they seen where the young blond girl, who'd been standing on the corner a minute before, had gone?

Cautiously he headed for the nearest tom. She was a skinny thing and as he got closer he could see she was no more than a kid, despite the copious amounts of makeup smeared over her face. Her legs were like sticks and Mickey had the sinking suspicion, that if it hadn't been for the darkness, there would be needle marks visible on her arms.

"Hey," He reached into his pocket for his warrant card, "I'm DC Webb, Sun Hill police, I need to ask you some quick questions."

The girl, who had obviously thought he was reaching for a wallet glared up with a weak pretence of distain.

"I ain't seen nothing," She turned hurriedly, obviously wanting to get away.

"Please," Mickey's voice was pitiful. "Did you see where that blond girl, the one who was standing under that lamp post, where'd she go?" The girl seemed to hesitate for a moment. Obviously it had not been the question she was expecting.

"Why d'you want to know?"

"She's a friend," Mickey was economical with the truth, but he could tell the girl was sympathetic. "I'm afraid something might happen to her, and it's my fault she's here."

"There was a man," The girl shrugged. "She went with him." When Mickey continued to stare at her expectantly, she added, "That way," and pointing down the back street Beach and Boulton had disappeared she turned away.

Mickey would have thanked her, but the poor kid was already half way towards another car, its passenger door half open. Instead, he chose to follow her tip and he raced as quietly as he could down the street.


	7. Chapter 7

While the other three were still standing under the lamp post, John had charged off down the nearest alley, Don not far behind. Both men had their own agendas driving them on at with a manic energy.

John cursed over and over again, his self-scorn forming a fierce aggressive mantra in his churning thoughts. God, was he so incapable that he couldn't keep track of the one thing more valuable to him than life itself? And in the sarcastic scouse tones of his mind he suddenly realised that there was no maybe about it. He was head over heals in love with Claire and no CIB job was going to change that.

Don, not far behind his mate was keeping up despite the constrictions of his designer suit. He hadn't even started dwelling on his own feelings for Claire, more concerned with the very real possibility none of them would see her alive again. Finchly was a creep of the worst kind. The very idea of what he could be doing to Claire drove him on, the hairs rising on the back of his neck.

Just as they came to the end of the first street, Don saw them, Claire and Finchly were walking arm in arm down the next alley. Silently, Don grabbed the back of John's shirt, smothering his mouth as he did so.

John however, too well trained for his own good sunk his teeth into his assailant's fingers and was only saved from his own bravado as Don, in a last attempt to maintain control spun him around to face Claire and Finchly's retreating backs.

John, light-headed with relief turned, silently laughing and apologising to a mournful Don.

"And they told me you didn't bite." Don gave him a rueful smile, "I'll have scares from this you know."

Together the pair slid into the shadows offered by the walls on one side of the lane and started where they had left off: an obbo to catch Brian Finchly.

From their awkward position, crouched in the darkness, both sergeants had a clear view of Finchly's hands, but no amount of silent cursing could remove his finger tips from Claire's skin.

John couldn't help noticing how childlike she appeared. In the moonlight her pale skin shone white and her long blond hair rippled over her slender shoulders, cascading down her back. She was so fragile, and he had let her walk out there. Docile, she allowed herself to be guided on, but John could see, even in the darkness, how straight and purposeful her step was – she was terrified.

Just as Don was starting to feel the aches of old age in his joints, Claire stopped, turning to Finchly as she did so.

"Where are we going?"

Dam, did she always have to be so brave and impatient? The two silent witnesses held a collective breath, in expectation of Finchly's reply, but they had underestimated Claire, Finchly simply smiled,

"I told you, there's no reason to be afraid." Claire, obviously still focussed on the obbo and ignorant of the danger she had been in, just minutes before, went on, carefully drawing out the details of Finchly's previous attacks. All the while, Finchly's anger and panic increased, until, completely over come, he forced her against the nearest wall.

John started forward, all set to give Finchly what was coming to him, get him arrested and get the Claire the hell out of there, but Don caught him just in time. In the instant the two sergeants had been caught in yet another silent battle, Finchly had pulled a knife from his back pocket, it's point now slightly piercing the soft skin of Claire's neck.

Powerless, John stood still, caught between the primal instinct of protection and the overwhelming fear of death. He swallowed the urge to vomit as he saw Finchly' finger's pressing up between Claire's legs. Surely death was better than what was to come?

Claire felt the panic reach a surreal level. It was as though her body had forced the last supply of adrenaline through her veins and now was on the verge of total shut down, but she had to remain conscious. That was the only way out.

Carefully, she reached her hand forward. Carefully, she placed her fingertips, white with cold, on the belt of Finchly's jeans. Sliding them upwards, she let the frozen skin of her hands connect with his stomach, tracing ticklish lines across the hairy flab she encountered.

The reaction was more than she could have hoped for, Finchly dropped the knife, leaning forward to take her into his arms. Claire felt his weight on top of her and the groin of his jeans stiff against her leg. He was unarmed, but she was nowhere near safe.

In a single movement, the whole CID team lunged forward, like a wave of some mad furry they descended on the couple. Duncan and Don needed their combined force to hold the struggling Finchly on the ground while Mickey fitted the cuffs.

Meanwhile, Kerry had turned her attention to Claire, slumped against the brick work.

"Thank God you're Ok," she leant forward to embrace the other woman, and then she saw the hand with which Claire was holding her left side. A dark stain was spreading out from under her fingers and even in the dark, Kerry knew it was blood.


	8. Chapter 8

"Serra Oscar from DC Holms, urgent ambulance required…" Kerry's voice, strangely high pitched with fear, caught the attention of the others. The relieved congratulatory mood from just seconds before evaporated in the cold night air and four pairs of eyes turned to see Claire's slumped form.

"Claire love," Duncan hurried forward, forcing Finchly into John and Mickey's arms with uncharacteristic force. "Claire, it's going to be alright. You've just got to stay with us till the ambulance gets here."

Claire looked up to give the DC a grateful glance, but the effort appeared too much and her legs crumpled under her. If it hadn't been for Duncan's quick step forward, she would have fallen onto the road there and then, but as it was, the Scot caught her in his arms. He was shocked to feel how cold her body was and to feel the uncontrolled shakes that spasmed through her slim frame.

If anything scared Duncan, it was the look Claire gave him at that moment. She seemed incapable of speech, but her eyes told him how serious it was. She was completely convinced that she might not make it.

Finchly let out a whimper and Duncan turned to see a white faced John Boulton, his eyes fixed on Claire had an iron grip cutting into the circulation of Finchly's arm.

"John, don't kill him. We don't want this little scrote getting off on any technicality." John seemed to come to his senses and with a glance at his own hand he forcibly uncurled it from where it had been holding the prisoner.

"Please," Claire whispered, it was clearly costing her a lot to get the words out, "Kerry, tell the DCI, tell him he was right."

Completely confused Kerry tried to placicate her friend, "It's alright Claire, we'll call him soon.

But Claire shook her head, her vision blurring as she did so, "No, tell him now… He was right, he has to know…" And with these words she seemed to relapse further until Duncan was holding her entirely in his arms.

Kerry decided that there was obviously something important going on that she didn't understand, so she pulled out her phone, just as the sounds of distant sirens came into range.

"Gov, it's Kerry," Jack Meadows was still at work, despite the fact it was one o'clock in the morning. "Listen, we've got Finchly, but Claire's been injured, the ambulance has just arrived, but she was very adamant I tell you – you were right. I don't know what she meant and she's lost consciousness, but that's what she said."

At his desk, Meadows pondered for a moment, right about what? Still trying to get over the news that his DS was on her way to hospital he strained his memory back. And then he saw her, sitting in the passenger seat of his car just earlier that night.

"You've seemed a little quiet lately, is there anything I should know before you go out there?" He had been worried about her. She'd been acting strangely for about a week, maybe more. What had she said in response,

"It's a bit late for that Gov," She hadn't denied it, and now she was telling him he was right. A sudden nasty thought hit Jack and he jumped from the desk, causing the phone to fall the floor.

"Kerry," He half shouted at the surprised DC, "I'm on my way down to the hospital." And with that he ran from the room, he just hoped his suspicions were wrong.


	9. Chapter 9

The Ambulance backed as far as it could into the small laneway, but medical officials were still forced to run most of the distance to the small group now clustered around the woman. She looked like most of the patients in this area, scantily dressed, thin and pale, but there was an unusual interest being taken in her welfare.

ODs, beatings, stab wounds, what did these girls expect? This one had passed out. A large man was holding her and a strange assembly of onlookers were standing around them.

"Here," The ambulance officer stepped forward, "Give her to me, she'll be alright now sir." He took the limp form, careful to support the head and together with his colleagues, they lifted her onto the stretcher.

"She's a police officer," One of the men watching stepped forward, almost defensive of the judgemental looks the ambulance crew had been displaying. "I'll go with her." The man gave them no option of refusal and jumped up into the van after the patient.

The officer just shrugged. He didn't like passengers as a rule, they tended to get in the way of the crew, but the ginger haired man had a decisive look about him, so he let this one slip.

"You her husband?" He glanced at the man who was now holding the patient's hand gently in his own.

The bloke looked down for a second, as though it was something he had to think about – remember. Slowly he shook his head, but the ambulance officer noticed how he sighed, there was obviously a story there. Wasn't there always? You didn't do his job for as long as he had without collecting some stories to tell. Then he remembered what the man had said earlier.

"You said she was a police officer?" He glanced questioningly at her short skirt and tight top.

"She was undercover. Things just got out of hand." John bitterly added that it was his fault, but too softly for anyone else to hear. All the way to the hospital, he held onto her body, the only part of her he hadn't lost, but it wasn't long before the ambulance was pulling up and that too was snatched from his grasp as hospital workers rushed his unconscious lover to intensive care.

Slowly John followed, unsure he really wanted to enter the sanitised halls of the hospital where he would be forced to sit through the agonising wait for news. Just then he caught, what at any other time would have been the comical image, of Meadows running up the stairs – faster than he'd been in several years.

When Meadows saw John he stopped dead in his tracks, as though some overwhelming thought had just occurred to him, then, thinking better of it, he shook his head.

"Is Claire inside?"

"Yes, they just took her," John turned to ask why the DCI was in such a hurry, but he was already too late and his senior officer had dashed through the double doors in the direction of emergency. John hurried after him, clearly missing something important.

By the time he found his way to Claire's room Meadows was already impatiently waiting outside, fidgeting with the insistency of a small child.

"Gov, why the rush?" Jack Meadows glanced up as his sergeant's voice reached his ears.

"Oh, John, you're still here."

Surprised, John cautiously replied, "Yes Gov, I'm waiting for Claire to wake up. They're operating at the moment, they won't let us in. Why the panic, you can't do anything now."

Meadows just shook his head again, "It's probably nothing… probably nothing…" he muttered more to himself than anyone else. "It's just something Claire said before she passed out."

"What, that you were right?" John questioned. He hadn't really thought about what her words meant, but they were as unintelligible to him as the rest of the team. He had presumed she was referring to some case or reference the DCI had asked about, but that wouldn't have caused such panic at a time like this.

Just then, the surgery doors opened and a doctor walked out.

"Mr. Meadows?" Jack rose to meet his words, "Claire's going to be fine, but it's a good thing you warned us about the baby, she almost lost him."


	10. Chapter 10

John felt his legs give way beneath him and he landed on the plastic hospital bench with an undignified thump. Baby! Thoughts whirled through his head in an endless reel of incoherent madness. Slowly, he started to regain a hold on reality, eyes still wide in shock, he was dimly aware that Meadows was speaking to him.

"John, John!" His head swung round to meet the voice, "Are you alright?"

The DCI had turned round at the sound of John's fall to find his sergeant starring transfixedly into space.

John looked up, dimly aware that Meadows was talking to him. Forcing his thoughts into some form order, he managed to respond.

"It's nothing Gov, just tired. Didn't get any sleep last night." There was no way he was explaining this one, even if he could. Why hadn't Claire thought to mention it – surely the baby couldn't be anyone else's? And then he thought back to that fateful night, just a week ago, when Claire had told him they needed to talk and he had stormed out of the flat before she'd said more than ten words.

His eyes drifted to the window, through which he could now see Claire's sleeping frame, her chest rising and falling in sweet peacefulness. Even from here he could see the marks of strain and fear that seemed to have grown onto her young face, but try as he might, he couldn't draw his eyes away: Just feel the growing guilt, building up inside him, corroding his very heart at the thought that he had caused this pain.

Meadow's followed John's gaze and he too stared through the transparent plane that separated them from the sleeping sergeant.

"I didn't know." Meadow's voice was slightly choked, an odd tone from the DCI who always appeared to maintain a soldier's iron resolve. "I would never have let her out there if I'd known."

"It's Ok Gov," John found it useful to comfort someone else. Selfishly pleasing to find he was not the only one who blamed themselves. "I don't think any of us out there knew tonight." He thought of the close timing, when they'd almost lost Claire altogether. At that moment, he'd realized he loved her, but now she was lying in hospital with his child and it occurred to him, she'd have more than a little reason to hate him.

The electronic buzz of John's mobile phone tone filled the corridor, reverberating off the hard, white walls; he hurriedly pulled it from his pocket. It was Don. They must need him back at the station. He flipped open the mouthpiece, drawing the thing to his ear as he did so.

"Boulton," Once more his voice hid any trace of emotion. A safety precaution he'd found so necessary in the past. Don's voice however, was nothing like its normal calm self.

"John," A harsh breathiness filled the words, "Mickey's arrested one of your snouts. It's complicated, I can't explain over the phone, but you have to come back." Don couldn't have had worse timing. Every particle of John's being wanted to stay right where it was, but he managed to grunt out a yes and shoved the phone back into the pocket of his jeans.

"You'd better go," Meadows indicated at the phone.

"Of course," Helpless and unable to come up with an adequate excuse, John reluctantly walked from the ward, too distracted to even wonder at what could have caused Don's panic.

Back at the station, Don was waiting in the front office for him.

"You took your time; I've had Smithy on my back for the last half an hour, apparently uniform want to interview her." John shrugged, still confused by his friend's lack of composure.

"So," he said shrugging. "You didn't need to wait for me."

"That's just it." Don's hands had clenched themselves into tight fists. "I need to ask a favour."


	11. Chapter 11

Slowly, Claire became aware of a faint beeping noise. It felt as though someone was clamping her head in a wrench and tightening it to the beat of the sound. A faint groan joined the commotion. Someone had a terrible headache and that wasn't all, there was something else, something important.

Claire sank back in defeat and as another groan escaped her cracked lips, she realised that she was the one with the headache. Too groggy to work out where she was or what happened she let the drugs have their way and pull her back into oblivion.

Meanwhile John, back at the station, was staring in wide-eyed consternation at his best friend. He couldn't believe what he'd just been asked.

"So let me get this absolutely clear." He wanted no manner of miscommunication on this, it was hard enough to get his head around in the first place. "You're bent."

Don looked up at these words, and the blue eyes, which moments before had been fixed with a forced concentration on the stained cement of the yard floor lifted in an appealing, slightly defensive glance. "C'mon John, what d'you think I am? It's not as though I'm a criminal, I've just used my connections a bit. Look," The oily charm had returned to Don's words and he was starting to glimpse a small chance of salvation. "Look, come with me, there's something I have to show you. It's the only way you'll understand."

John swallowed hard. Just days ago he would have followed Don without question, but now, his friend's words were starting paint an all too neat little scenario. Somewhere in the back of his mind he could hear Claire's voice, "John, I'm CIB…" Could it just be a coincidence? His copper's head was callously crushing his already bruised heart and he paused, ready to make what could be the biggest mistake of his life.

It was three hours later when Claire finally returned to the realm of the living. This time, the headache had dissipated enough to face the light of day, and she slowly opened her eyes, accustoming them to the dim lighting of her hospital ward. She gradually drank in the details of her surroundings and with the half opened cloth curtain, the sterile white bed clothes and the ever present sounds of hospital monitors the preceding events came back to her.

Jack Meadow's had been waiting through what seemed like a never ending night, but at the slight movement from Claire's head, he shook himself into consciousness.

"Claire!" The relief filled his words, "You're alright. It's alright; everything's going to be ok."

"Gov, how long have I been here? What happened?" Then a look of panicked fear spasmed across her face. "Did you get my message?"

"Yes, Kerry rang. The baby's fine." Jack's eyes darkened momentarily. "Why didn't you tell me you were pregnant. I would never have let you do that obbo if I'd known?"

"I know Guv." Claire tried to smile off the serious gaze of her superior, but when Meadows refused to be brushed aside she sighed, "I don't know, maybe I just wasn't ready to face it." The DCI's looked turned to one of consternation and concern. He couldn't quiet work out the emotions his young sergeant was so good at hiding, but he could tell she had been hurt by something. Obviously this wasn't a child about to be born into a happy set of circumstances.

"Does the father know?" Meadow's chose his words carefully, ever aware of the vulnerability Claire would never acknowledge.

"No," There was so much she couldn't explain and in her mind Claire saw the face of the man she loved. The handsome profile with his charismatic smile and beautiful hazel eyes and in her mind, she watched those eyes transform with hurt and loathing as she told him who she really was. How could one sentence change so much? "I don't think he'd be interested." This time it was a battle to stop the tears that threatened to fall from the corners of her eyes, carrying more pain than she could explain in a thousand words.

Instinctively Jack reached his calloused brown hand forward to take Claire's soft white one. "Then he obviously doesn't know what he's said goodbye to." He leant forward and kissed Claire on the forehead. "Claire, you're going to be a great mother and you're a good person. If this man, whoever he is can't see that, he's a fool."

Claire smiled. If only Jack had any idea it was the prized John Boulton his words applied to. "But John's no fool." And the whispers of her mind spoke loud and clear into her thoughts, crushing the tiny flicker of joy that had kindled within her heart. This time, she could not stop them, as the tears trickled down her cheeks, each one a cry for the man she had lost.

Jack turned to fetch her a glass of water from the dispenser in the corner of the room and Claire took the opportunity to wipe away the evidence of her love.

"I presume you caught Finchly then." A slightly false cheerfulness infused her words and both officers mutely agreed that this discussion was over.

"Yes, you were surrounded. Actually, I thought everything was sorted, but Don Beech rang a couple of hours ago to say John was needed urgently at the station."

"Urgently?" Claire tried to sit up. How predictable, just when Don could really be up to something big, she was stuck in hospital, and to make matters worse, John could get caught up in it. Nothing would satisfy Hodges more than to bag two coppers at once. Then again, it was probably nothing. Don always thought his news was 'urgent'.

"Oh, just something about a snout. John didn't really say and I haven't rung since." His glance around the ward was enough to remind Claire she was supposed to be resting. And then the other implication on Meadows words hit her.

"_John_ was here?"


End file.
